Irresistible
by Princess-Of-Stuff
Summary: As they stand alone together in a room, Voldemort and Quirrell discuss some things. It leads to truth, and heck, even why they're just so darn irresistible.


**A/N: ****Hehe, hi! This is just a little something-something that I thought would be deemed fluff-worthy – but then that's up to you to decide! And anyway, a little Quirrellmort now & then doesn't hurt anyone, right?**

**ENJOY! :)**

The room was midnight black and empty, except for two men that stay standing in the center of the room; they were smiling serenely at each other as the starless sky frowned upon them.

But then, of course, one of them – the nerdier looking of the two – frowned and squeaked out nervously, "W-what is going to happen now, my Lord?" He tugged apprehensively on his mustard-yellow linen shirt, and peered at him as if looking for comfort.

The other man, though, just chuckled calmly and said, "Quirrell, be quiet; you're ruining the moment." His expression changed to a surprisingly darker one, and he sighed. "But who knows, right? I'm a former Dark Lord, and you were my body for a part of it."

The weak-looking boy – Quirrell – looked startled, as if he was expecting an actual formulated answer. Then he pouted childishly, his lower lip jutting out in an attempt to look sad. "Well, it was fun while it lasted, right?"

The Dark Lord – but who is a changed man that we are going to call Voldemort - frowned, his dark brows furrowing together tightly like a mole digging into the ground. "Is that all you think it was?" He growled like a menacing dog. "Just _fun_?" He repeated like it was a mantra; he looked angry, to say the least.

Quirrell shrugged. "I don't know, m'lord. What am I meant to say? That it was a thrilling experience for me, and that I'd do it all again in a heartbeat if it meant I could be with you?" A reminiscent smirk tugged at his chapped lips. "I wasn't sure if that seemed too cheesy."

"Do you really mean that?" His question took Quirrell by surprise, but he still nodded despite that and moved over to touch the muscular man gently on the shoulder.

"Of course I did, m'lord. I'd never lie: not to you." It was true; he had sworn an oath and he wasn't backing out now; or ever, in fact.

Voldemort definitely looked surprised now; actually, dumb-founded beyond words might be a better word to describe it. Still, he managed to open his mouth for long enough to say, "T-thank you, Quirrell. I don't think anyone's ever said that to me…" He chuckled bitterly. "Ever."

Quirrell winced and took him by the hand delicately, as if he thought that even one touch could break him into pieces; just like fragile china. "M'lord-"

"Voldemort."

Quirrell blinked in wonderment. "Pardon?" He asked, curiosity lacing his words like thread.

"Voldemort." He repeated, squeezing their hands together tightly. "Please… Call me Voldemort. The memories… They- They need to be forgotten. Right now? We're equals." He smiled softly at Quirrell, and then whisked his head to the side: embarrassed.

Quirrell tightened his grip on Voldemort's rough hand. "Voldemort… I'm sorry." He whispered, the sound still managing to echo in the cold, empty room.

"You have nothing to be sorry for; you saved me." Voldemort murmured, shuffling his feet further towards him silently. He laced their other hands together and smiled tenderly at the man whom he had possibly grown to… _No, impossible._

"I know, but… I'm sorry for all that you went through." He smiled, acknowledging the effort that must have taken for him to do that. He wasn't exactly the best at ways to show endearment, although to Quirrell this was more than enough. "You didn't deserve it; you went through a painful life, and hatred was all that you ever saw."

"It wasn't _all _that I saw." Voldemort quirked his lips slightly in amusement. "You showed me a lot of kindness, you know. You did a lot of stuff for me that I doubt anyone else would." His words meant everything to Quirrell; and for once, he believed them without a second thought. They rung true in his heart, no matter how awfully romantic that sounds. It was the only way he could describe it.

"Well, it might be because-" Quirrell pauses, not sure whether to carry on or not. He decides not to, which kind of aggravates Voldemort.

"Because what, Quirrell?" His eyes grew on a steely determination that read: I'll find out even if you don't tell me now.

But alas, he still shook his head and refused to tell him. "It's nothing, honestly, Voldemort. It's just a bit…" He laughed, but it didn't hold any humour. "It's just a bit embarrassing, to be straight-forward with you." He looked ashamed, for some unknown reason to Voldemort.

"What is? You can tell me, Quirrell." He urges Quirrell on urgently. "Come on, man, we've shared a bed – I'm pretty sure we can work past whatever it is you're so embarrassed about!"

Quirrell blushes a bright shade of pink – however unflattering that colour was, Voldemort couldn't help but think how endearing it looked on him – and stammered, "Y-yeah, I g-guess so… But still!" He protests, his hold on their hands unconsciously tightening. "It's just that…"

"Just what, Quirrell?" Voldemort urged. Quirrell wasn't sure if it was the way he was so desperate to know, or the way he said his name but…

But he ended up blurting out, "It's just that, I did all that stuff for you because, I, well…" He stumbled over his words, confused. "It's because I find you really attractive, and I find it really hard to ever say no to you because you make me feel things that no one else can!" He babbled, flushing an even brighter shade of strawberry than before when Voldemort gives him a dark, intense look.

"You find me attractive." He states dubiously, as if even the idea of it was silly.

"It's stupid, right? I just can't resist you when-" Quirrell was cut off from his unintentional waffling by an amused, tall man named Voldemort.

"You can't resist me, huh?" He chuckles, moving closer to the poor man. "So even if I did this…" His lips ghosted over Quirrell's ear, like a shadow in the dark; quick and swift. "You couldn't say no?" His lips pulled into a humoured smirk.

Quirrell was immobilized; he couldn't speak because of astonishment. What had he just done? Was he imagining it? No, it felt too real… It was quick but he had felt the surprisingly soft lips of Voldemort on his ear.

"And if I did this…" Voldemort slipped a hand up to cup his smooth face comfortingly. "You couldn't protest?" His face inched closer, and he yet again felt Quirrell's hand tighten; not in fear, just… anticipation.

"And this…" His face is so close now, that Quirrell can feel his cool breath fan over his face. The feel of his face so close is intimidating yet familiar, and the view of his plump, kissable lips is just too much!

Before he has the chance to finish off his sentence, Quirrell smashes their lips together heatedly. Voldemort is stunned but instantly turned on, as is Quirrell, so he replies by pressing back equally as hard. Quirrell runs his hands through Voldemort's hair – which is also a big turn-on – and moans ferociously, the noise reverberating and making Voldemort respond in the same manner.

Suddenly Quirrell snatches his lips away and grins wickedly. "Just can't resist me, huh?" His lips are stolen by Voldemort's, and Quirrell feels the older man's lips turn up into a complacent smile.

"I guess not." He sighs softly, his head resting against Quirrell's. "That's probably why we're so irresistible."

**A/N:**** Hi! It's me again... I just wanted to say that, if you like it, please tell me - I might write a few more one-shots of Harry Potter! I don't mind who they're about, just tell me the two people you want paired (or friendship) and if you want, even an idea for one:) Don't forget to review:)**


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